


Cracked Earth

by eirenical (chibi1723)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Combeferre/Jehan, Class Differences, Coffee Shops, Drought, Elemental Magic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Empathy, Fanart Included, First Kiss, Forehead Touching, Friends to Lovers, Loss of Control, M/M, Referenced Past Child Death, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Telepathy, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24011704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi1723/pseuds/eirenical
Summary: There were pounding footsteps on the path behind him, but Marius paid them no mind.  He only had eyes, had thoughts, had focus for the person in front of him, that lone, solitary figure outlined by a night sky that hadn’t seen a storm like this in months… years, even.  But that didn’t matter.  What mattered—theonlything that mattered—was that the thoughts he could sense boiling under the surface of Courfeyrac’s public mind were taking an ever-darker turn along with them.  And if Marius couldn’t reach him soon, it wasn’t going to be the storm that sent him over the cliff.
Relationships: Courfeyrac/Marius Pontmercy, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 26
Collections: Les Mis Big Bang: Quarantine Edition





	Cracked Earth

**Author's Note:**

> _**May 4, 2020:**_ First of all, I would like to thank the mods for organizing this Big Bang. This was the most fun I've had writing Les Mis fic in a while! I'd also like to thank [roboticabirdie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/roboticabirdie), my incredible beta-reader for this Big Bang. Her suggestions were invaluable! Any remaining mistakes are purely mine. And most of all, I'd like to thank [boom_goes_the_canon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/boom_goes_the_canon), my AMAZING collaborator for this Big Bang. They drew the most incredible art and came up with such great character designs, and this fic would not be what it is without them. And co-creating the idea for this story was really exciting; I'm so glad we had a chance to work together!
> 
> Their art will be interspersed throughout the fic. To see the full-sized images, just click on them! (And trust me, you want to--they're incredible! :D)
> 
> [Tumblr post (fic)](https://eirenical.tumblr.com/post/617322153544761344/cracked-earth-7185-words-by-eirenical-sister).
> 
> [Tumblr post (art)](https://boom-goes-the-canon.tumblr.com/post/617322810332921856/my-contribution-to-the-les-mis-quarantine-big-bang).

“Courfeyrac!”

There was no response from the figure at the cliff’s edge.

“Courfeyrac!”

Marius shouted his name again, and then again, ever more frantic as he edged closer, but still there was no response. There was just Courfeyrac, his head tipped up into the harsh lashing of the rain, his body framed by a storm-laden sky. All it would take would be one bad startle from a crash of thunder and he would go right over the edge.

“Courfeyrac!”

There were pounding footsteps on the path behind him, but Marius paid them no mind. He only had eyes, had thoughts, had focus for the person in front of him, that lone, solitary figure outlined by a night-dark sky that hadn’t seen a storm like this in months… years, even. But that didn’t matter. What mattered—the _only_ thing that mattered—was that the thoughts he could sense boiling under the surface of Courfeyrac’s public mind were taking an ever-darker turn along with them. And if Marius couldn’t reach him soon, it wasn’t going to be the storm that sent him over the cliff.

“Courfeyrac, please! Come back!”

Hands descended quickly and without warning to grab Marius’ shoulders as a taller body all but slammed into him. A harsh voice panted, gasping between words, almost directly into his ear. “You aren’t going to reach him that way. He’s too far gone.”

Combeferre.

Marius couldn’t turn, couldn’t look, couldn’t break that oh-so-tenuous connection between he and Courfeyrac. Voice rising in both pitch and volume, Marius all but screamed, “What other way is there?”

“Use your head. Figure it out!” Combeferre’s answer came along with a hard shove that propelled Marius forward several steps before a harsh gust of wind nearly slammed him off his feet. Marius scrambled to grab onto something, anything, that might save him from falling down the path, himself, finally managed to grab onto a nearby tree branch. He stood there, heart beating harder than if he’d just run a marathon, desperately trying to catch his breath… and then, eyes fixed on Courfeyrac, he began to climb.

_…hang on, Courfeyrac. Just a little longer. I’m coming._

* * *

Three months earlier…

* * *

[](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/OEPAffiqF6gRA-Z0to7MlxV1Tcekp7TI25XUp5E9dQmU0uGGmVQBMWzqQ9a0lZNEOq4UPBZnBkUPNcdo8dizX-F1EqIzrk0PaGkln9d78L42VoawbOCTuGfnP3em2tYhzM7UITRu=w2400) | 

Marius tugged at the collar of his new robes, trying to get the folds to settle as neatly as they had when Courfeyrac had insisted he try them on in the store. Various shades of blue and vibrant purple, they were far more flamboyant than anything he’d ever worn before. They were far more flamboyant than anything he’d _dared_ wear before. His grandfather had belittled his modest talents, had dressed him in the drabbest of colors, the most mundane of cuts, as a result. Until Courfeyrac had offered him his old green jacket to replace one so threadbare that Marius’ elbows were starting to wear through it, he’d never even worn a non-neutral color. After all, why tart up a low-level telepath? They were a time a dozen, only useful for reading meanings under words—which really was only useful for translation, after all, and anyone could do that, even someone without magic.  
  
---|---  
  
But Courfeyrac had been willing to listen to exactly none of Marius’ protests, especially now that he’d helped Marius get a job using said talents, mediocre though they were. Thus, the shopping trip and thus the new robes, putting his talents out there on display for anyone to see. That was the point of such fashions, after all. They were as much warning as they were advertisement. Here is a person with magic. Here is a person who may otherwise not be as harmless as they appear. And Courfeyrac had been so proud, so happy, to see Marius acknowledged for his talents. He’d been so pleased to finally have an excuse to see Marius in the bright flamboyant styles that _he_ preferred, styles that he had never had the option of wearing, not having magical talents himself. And if one wanted to see that there was truly no justice in the world, one only had to realize that this was a world that would look at Courfeyrac and see someone _ordinary_ , someone who wasn’t special.

Courfeyrac was the most special person Marius had ever met.

So, cheeks flaming, he’d allowed Courfeyrac his wish-fulfillment, allowed him to fuss and primp and spend far too much money outfitting Marius for his new job. Because where was the harm? Marius would do far, far more to see Courfeyrac smile like he’d smiled that day. But these robes were so _complicated_ …

A gentle pair of hands reached up, then, and brushed Marius’ aside. Moments later, they had tweaked the collar just so… and every misbehaving fold was suddenly laying exactly where it should be. Marius sagged, relieved beyond measure that he wouldn’t look like a ragbag on the first day of his new life as a productive member of society. “Courfeyrac, how did you _do_ that? Are you _sure_ you don’t have magic?”

Courfeyrac stilled behind him, hands still lightly resting on Marius’ shoulders, saying nothing. Marius’ heart beat a hard rhythm in his chest. Had he said too much? Had he said the wrong thing? For all the advantages his talents should have given him, it seemed he was forever saying the wrong thing. He’d done it just the other day when Courfeyrac had introduced him to his best friend, his _best friend_. Marius had never wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole as much as he had in that moment. Was it possible that he’d just done it twice?

Finally, Courfeyrac’s hands slid from Marius’ shoulders to wrap around his middle in a tight hug, instead. His words, when they finally came, were muffled in the voluminous folds of Marius’ new cloak, but the meaning within them was as clear as a shout to someone with Marius’ talents. “Why must a thing be magic to have value, Marius? Is it not enough that it be helpful?”

“Of course. Of course, you’re right.” Marius’ voice was tight with the effort of stopping himself from saying too much, again… as always.

There was a short huff of laughter against Marius’ shoulder, then. “Enough.” 

Courfeyrac stepped back, resumed brushing the folds of Marius’ clothes into place. When he was done, he stepped back, turning Marius to face him. That soft pride was back in his smile, and Marius reveled in it. He held his arms out to the side. “Will I do?”

Courfeyrac lifted a hand to pat Marius’ cheek, that smile widening. “You’ll more than do, Marius. You’ll more than do.” With one last pat—nearly hard enough to be a light slap—Courfeyrac said, “And if you’re done preening, you’d best be off. We don’t want you late on your first day, and I have a coffee shop to open!”

Marius was halfway out the door before he realized he’d even left his room. He stopped at the last moment, one hand on the knob, turning back to yell into the apartment. “I’ll see you after work?”

“You’ll see me after the ABC meeting! That is… unless you’re brave enough to try again, so soon?”

The mischievous edge to Courfeyrac’s smile was almost enough to get Marius to agree… but not quite. Not quite. “After the meeting is fine!”

Courfeyrac laughed. “Coward!”

“And not ashamed of it in the slightest!” Not when the meaning under Courfeyrac’s words was full of nothing but warmth, nothing but pride, nothing but love. And with that buoying him up, and a bright warm sun overhead… what could possibly go wrong?

* * *

Another crash of thunder rolled overhead, and Marius ducked instinctively. Lightning flashed, illuminating the entire night sky, followed nearly immediately by another crash of thunder. Marius had been a child the last time he’d experienced a storm this severe; he’d hid in his mother’s old wardrobe the entire night, shaking too hard with each booming clap of thunder to even think of trying to leave it. It had been morning before one of the servants had finally found him, curled up and vacant eyed amidst whatever dresses he’d been able to pull down onto himself for comfort.

Marius was no longer a little boy, but this storm stole his breath just as badly as that first one had. He was still moderately protected where he was, but Courfeyrac… Courfeyrac was out there alone, completely exposed, where any one of the myriad flashes of lightning could arc his way and go to ground through him. He’d be fried to a crisp, dead before Marius could even reach him, at this rate. 

Marius let go of the tree and pushed himself harder.

“Courfeyrac! Courfeyrac, please!!”

Still nothing. No response. Courfeyrac didn’t turn, didn’t flinch, didn’t acknowledge Marius in any way. His eyes were focused straight up into the roiling clouds and, even at this distance, Marius could tell that not all the wetness on his face was from the rain—not with his thoughts churning in an ever-darker spiral as they were. Marius slipped in the shifting mud, desperately trying to keep his feet and cursing the wild whipping of the robes he’d so loved just a month before. When the next gust of wind nearly pulled him off his feet, Marius cursed and pulled the robes from his torso, leaving him in shirtsleeves and trousers of dark navy—the closest Courfeyrac had come to allowing him to keep his customary black. Those robes—expensive, brilliant, robes that had meant so much to him once—flew off down the path back in Combeferre’s direction, but Marius couldn’t spare even a thought to wonder if he would catch them for him. It didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was reaching Courfeyrac.

“Courfeyrac! Courfeyrac~~~~~!!”

Nothing.

* * *

Two months earlier…

* * *

Courfeyrac threw his towel over his shoulder, nodded to one of the baristas and moved to lean on the bar near Marius’ seat. “On me.”

“Because I have good news to share and we’re celebrating?”

A soft laugh. “No. Because you’re Marius, and I like you. And because I own the place. If I can’t bestow free drinks on the people I love, then what’s the point of even owning a coffee shop in the first place?” Courfeyrac pushed the drink closer. “Go ahead. Drink up. I made it just the way you like it.”

| [](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/qi_SQwVZ0ON5mUz4aS8y_Yv0YSVVi09R6ig-rijKDfvnSGLcwcQTmwYjdgHQgaF9fUbfezVzl0i2H30YwKQVd72JhkZ5KwH4ah_BJqWlDKdsUVkoP9u6WnT4tnNUhS2sslZ-FW13=w2400)  
---|---  
  
Marius wasted no more time, lifting the mug to his lips and all but inhaling half of it. He was probably going to regret that later when the resulting burns became apparent, but in that moment, with Courfeyrac smiling at his clear enjoyment, Marius couldn’t have cared less. Courfeyrac had taken him in not even two months ago and, already, Marius was finding himself doing all kinds of silly things just to get him to smile. It was ridiculous to even think it, but he was starting to think of Courfeyrac’s smiles as an addiction, one that he never wanted to kick. He already couldn’t go a day without one, and so he hoarded them jealously whenever one came his way. But this one… there was something wrong with this one.

Marius’ talent, slowly honing with increased use over the course of the last month, was picking up an undercurrent of meaning to Courfeyrac’s words. And it was one that he’d never picked up on before. Hiding his face in his latte, Marius replayed Courfeyrac’s words in his mind, feeling for the double-layer of meaning that he’d heard the whisper of, teasing it from the underlayer like he would the trickiest of translations. It wasn’t how he was _supposed_ to use his gift… but he couldn’t let it go. He needed to _know._

After a few moments, the words: _”If I can’t bestow free drinks on the people I love, then what’s the point of even owning a coffee shop in the first place?”_ slowly teased apart into something very different…

_[Water rationing isn’t going to be far off. Once that starts, the coffee shops will be among the first businesses to close. They’re a luxury we’ll be ill able to afford. I should enjoy spoiling my friends while I still can…]_

Marius almost choked on his latte.

Water rationing? They’d been throwing around words like “drought” and “conservation” for months already. But surely… surely the water shortage couldn’t be that bad, yet? Bad enough to warrant closing coffee shops? Well… it was a good thing, he supposed, that he had this particular good news to share, then. Because if Courfeyrac might be soon to have no income, he would need Marius to step up and help with the rent and the bills. And now… Marius could.

Marius put down his now mostly empty mug and said, “I’ve been given the responsibility for translations for the Chinese embassy!” At Courfeyrac’s slow blink and tilted head, Marius rolled his eyes. “It’s a promotion, Courfeyrac! And a pay increase! I’ve barely been there a month and I’ve been promoted!”

This time, Courfeyrac’s smile was entirely without shadows. “Marius, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you! But…”

“…but?”

“Marius… do you even _speak_ Chinese?”

Marius froze as Courfeyrac’s words sunk in, a slow blush rising to heat his cheeks. Finally, he spluttered out, “Well… well… that… that doesn’t matter! That’s what my gift is for! I don’t need to translate things _to_ Chinese… yet… and by the time I do, I’ll know it well enough to do it! You’ll see!”

Courfeyrac threw back his head and laughed. He laughed so hard that a few tears escaped the corners of his eyes. When he finally sobered enough to speak, he said, “Oh Marius… you may be the death of me yet, but what a glorious way to go!” He pulled the towel down from his shoulder and slapped the bar with it. “If you say you can learn a 3000 plus character, non-Romance language through your gift alone, then I find myself having no choice but to believe you! That is a latte well-deserved, my friend. Drink up and enjoy! And, as for me, I have to get back to work…”

…and there was that double-layer again. As Courfeyrac turned away to take the next customer’s offer, Marius shivered at the under-thought that had been revealed by that innocuous statement…

 _[…while I still can.]_

* * *

The rain was coming down so hard now that Marius could barely keep his eyes open under the onslaught. He moved more by instinct thaN sight now, Courfeyrac’s bright presence—even dimmed as it was now—acting as a homing beacon to keep him moving in the right direction. Inch by slow inch, step by slow step, Marius worked his way up the path. He went down more than once, victim to rocks and tree roots he couldn’t see and shifting ground that was anything but stable under his feet. By the time the path leveled off, he was shivering and covered in mud.

Courfeyrac was barely twenty feet away. Marius took in a deep breath and yelled one last time. “Courfeyrac!!”

And there was still no answer, not even a flinch to indicate that Courfeyrac had heard.

Marius edged closer, more scared than ever of a misstep here at the top of the cliff but desperate to reach Courfeyrac. How could he not have heard Marius calling? How could he still not hear? The rain was loud but, at this proximity, Marius’ voice should have been able to reach him… unless he was so far gone that he couldn’t hear anything but the inside of his own head.

”Use your head,” Combeferre had told Marius. Use your head…

…use your _mind_.

Gathering every bit of fear, every bit of worry, every bit of _love_ , that he had for Courfeyrac, Marius threw one single word out into the void with every bit of power his mind possessed.

_[Courfeyrac!!]_

Courfeyrac turned.

* * *

One month earlier…

* * *

“Marius, right? So glad you could make it!”

Marius jumped, turning quickly to see who had spoken. Tall, blonde, beautiful as a marble statue of a Greek god. Marius swallowed hard to fight the feel of his heart beating hard and fast in his throat. Pure instinct had him holding out his hand when the other man offered his. He had a firm handshake, but not too firm, and he didn’t linger over the contact. He wore dull colors—a simple button-down shirt and jeans—but, like Courfeyrac, he didn’t need elaborate clothes to stand out. His hair and his very presence did that for him. And also, just like Courfeyrac, to Marius’ gift he blazed like a beacon.

After at least a minute of standing and staring—and trying desperately _not_ to stand and stare—Marius finally got out in a horribly strangled squeak, “Enjolras?” Because, really, who else could he be? Marius had heard Courfeyrac tell enough stories about Enjolras that he’d probably have been disappointed if Marius hadn’t recognized the man on sight.

And then Enjolras smiled, and Marius half fell in love with him on the spot.

Barely a moment later, Marius jumped again at the feel of another’s arm dropping heavily around his shoulders but settled quickly enough. He’d know Courfeyrac’s presence anywhere. Courfeyrac leaned in close, the faint smell of something sweet and alcoholic wafting across to tease at Marius’ nose as Courfeyrac spoke. “Marius! You’re late. Come in. Join us. We’re celebrating!”

And as quickly as Courfeyrac had arrived, he was gone. Marius hadn’t even had a chance to say hello. Marius turned back to face Enjolras just in time to see him heave a great sigh and shake his head. “Come on, Marius. Take off your robes. Stay awhile. I’m sure Courfeyrac will welcome your company.”

_[Celebrating… yeah, we’re celebrating, alright. It’s a real Irish wake in here.]_

The thought came so fast, and completely unbidden, that Marius barely had time to realize that it belonged to Enjolras before he was gone, disappearing back into the crowd filling the Musain. Marius was about to follow, to ask what an Irish wake was, in spite of his better judgment, but Enjolras had stopped to talk to another tall figure in a button-down and jeans and— _No. thank you_. One confrontation with Combeferre was already enough for Marius’ entire lifetime. Courfeyrac could call him a teddy bear all he liked, but Marius knew differently. Teddy bears didn’t have teeth that sharp. Marius moved quickly into the crowd, giving the two men a wide berth. They were talking about something, gesticulating wildly as they did, and Marius wanted no part of whatever it was. He’d already shamed himself of one of Courfeyrac’s best friends; he didn’t need to compound it by saying the wrong thing in front of the other, as well.

Marius made his way through the crowd, fighting to find either Courfeyrac or a clear bit of space. Honestly, either one would do at this point. The press of so many bodies—of so many _minds_ —was more than he could handle. He hadn’t really thought it possible, but since he’d taken over the translations for the Chinese embassy, Marius’ gift had actually gotten stronger. After only a month, he’d learned enough Mandarin that he was starting to be able to translate in both directions. His boss had nearly kissed him the first time he’d jumped in when the public translator had flubbed an important bit of dialogue. Marius had gotten another pay bump from it, too. And from the bits and pieces of underlayered thoughts he was picking up from the crowd… that couldn’t have come at a better time.

_[I can’t believe they’ve closed the restaurants.]_

_[Next thing you know, they’ll be rationing showers.]_

_[I heard the rich are hoarding all the water.]_

_[My children… my poor children… dying… all dying…]_

There was such pain in that last thought that Marius all but gagged on it. Marius half rose from the seat he’d found, whipping his head wildly around to try to spot the owner of that thought. Someone had to. Someone should. Those were the thoughts of someone who shouldn’t be alone. But, try as he might, Marius couldn’t see anyone who looked as despondent as those thoughts felt. Everyone was drinking, laughing, dancing, even Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac.

Who’d just lost his entire livelihood.

Marius really should at least go talk to him—

[ ](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/_YwqzKEzn3qPddVXNLP0ReWX5YP_RDE65B4ivqRjQhVbzisXCja1MHgDhoCLifwATUmibkODP-Vm3BaGuho1MzpC1i6FPq_vqNaUxrPuLcYSd3b-DFji12MJ8CNKhl8Oqed_aKxQ=w2400) | 

_[…fuck it.]_

Nearly simultaneously with that thought came the sound of a chair tipping over and hitting the ground with a loud crash. A moment later, a figure swathed in greens and every hue and shade of red that Marius could imagine, leapt up onto one of the tables. With his brilliantly colored robes, his knee-high boots, a _cape_ , for crying out loud, and a truly impressive hat, he could have stepped right out of a Robin Hood fairy tale. But the pouches and leaves hanging from his belt and the roses tucked into his hat—out of season for all their brilliance—gave away what he truly was.

Earth-empath.

And a powerful one.  
  
---|---  
  
“My friends… I would speak!”

The crowd turned towards him like flowers to the sun, a thrum of anticipation in the way they canted forwards, eyes alight. Someone cut the music.

“Then speak, Jehan! You have our ears.”

Courfeyrac.

The intensity of Jehan’s gaze faded a little as a smile bloomed on his lips. “And what would I do with so many of them, Courfeyrac?” A soft huff of laughter. “I suppose they would make excellent fertilizer for my roses… but then you’ll be wanting them back and where will we be? How about I just borrow them for a little while? Just long enough to share a tale of woe.”

Another man let out a loud whoop from the back of the crowd and lifted his lighter into the air, flicking it on with one smooth motion. Jehan smiled. “Bahorel… thank you for that. A little mood lighting never hurt anything.”

A moment later, as the lights of the Musain dimmed and sputtered, several other lights flicked into being around the crowd—some holding lighters aloft, others their phones. Marius slunk back into his seat and did neither.

Jehan pulled his hat from his head, and the long tail of an auburn braid tumbled down. Eyes half-lidded, a lilt in his voice, he began to speak.

“I sat in my garden this morning, cradling a rose in my hands.

She was dying.

I called to the earth below her, asking for strength, for resilience.

But the Earth had none to give.”

Jehan turned then, locking his gaze on golden-haired Enjolras in the middle of the crowd. Tears rolled down those marble cheeks, water pouring from that beautiful stone, yet completely useless for all its abundance.

“I went out into the fields this afternoon, to whisper to the corn, to the beans, to the squash…

I whispered, I yelled, and I cried—a river of useless tears for all they could water my children—

And none of those sisters three answered.

For they too were dying.”

Jehan turned once more, reaching his hand down to the man who had come to stand beside him. Combeferre took that hand in his and pressed it to his lips, saying nothing. Jehan tipped his head back and let out a soft, mournful noise. When it was done, his head dropped, his eyes flitted around the crowd, locking gazes with everyone. And when he landed on Marius, Marius finally found his feet, drawn up, drawn forwards, drawn in, by the pain in the voice… and the even deeper pain in Jehan’s underlying thoughts.

“I can be many things, _do_ many things, my friends. Wonderous things. Terrible things. But even I cannot call water from dry, barren earth. And unless, by some miracle, we find someone who can… we will soon be as dead as my poor Rose.”

Jehan crumpled then, falling from the table into Combeferre’s waiting arms. He did not cry. He did not wail. He simply curled into Combeferre’s embrace, body still and his gaze turned inward, unresponsive, an unnatural display of calm after that outpouring of emotion.

Combeferre, on the other hand…

His eyes were anything but calm. And they were fixed on Courfeyrac as if he held the answer to everything.

_[Tick tock, tick tock, my friends… welcome to the end of days.]_

* * *

Courfeyrac’s face was a mask of pain when he turned. Great heaving breaths rocked his chest as he stood there shaking in the rain. Eyes wild, hands clenched tightly into fists, he was as a feral animal, backed so far into the corner that it had forgotten that fighting was even an option. All that was left was stark terror.

“Stay away!”

Marius took one more step, testing the waters.

At that step, Courfeyrac’s jumbled thoughts focused, for one moment laser sharp… and he took a step back as well.

Towards the cliff edge.

Marius froze.

“Courfeyrac… please… you don’t want to do this. You _can’t_ want to do this.”

Another step back.

“What would you know about it, Marius? What would you know?”

Marius’ instincts were screaming at him to race forward, to somehow catch Courfeyrac before he could take another step back, but he fought them with everything he had. He couldn’t give in. Not when even one more step might be the one that sent Courfeyrac over the edge.

The thunder boomed overhead, so loud that the reverberation echoed in Marius’ chest, and lightning arced across the sky virtually simultaneously. Fucking _hell_. This thing was right on top of them. It was a miracle of the highest order that neither of them had been hit by lightning yet, and the chances of it happening had to be increasing with every second that they were out here. And even so, the lightning was the lesser danger.

Fighting his instincts every step of the way, Marius took a step back. Courfeyrac still stood tense, poised to run, but he didn’t edge any closer to the cliff’s edge, and Marius counted that a victory.

“Courfeyrac… I may not know much, but I know _you_. And you are more full of life than anyone I know. You don’t deserve to die like this. You don’t deserve to die at all! Please… please come away from the edge. Let me help you!”

At those last words, Courfeyrac bent double, clutching his stomach as he dissolved into laughter. Not a sound reached Marius where he stood, and that made it all the more terrifying.

Finally, Courfeyrac straightened again. There were fresh tears on his face. “You _know_ me? You know _me_? You don’t know anything! I destroy everything I touch. I always have! I don’t deserve to die? _Tell that to the little boy I killed._ ”

What?

A hand landed hard on Marius’ shoulder, the full weight of another’s body nearly dragging him back down into the mud. Combeferre. Marius didn’t dare take his eyes off Courfeyrac’s form, shaking once again with laughter, even as the tears ran down his face. He turned just enough to say to Combeferre, “What the hell is he talking about?”

And Combeferre—brave, logical, indomitable Combeferre—winced. His voice was a ragged, barely-there whisper when he responded, but that didn’t matter to Marius. Combeferre’s thoughts were as loud as a shout.

“We were children, barely five years old…”

_[He was so young… **We** were so young.]_

| [](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/Ws-lf_82LEQPnt7tOVZ4lFfoLDWm-GET0_KEvQ_2Id5S1srY_lHTZi1xUlzJO0X4KQ11XUAykz1HEISSL9pS22WuXnIdEtjDy9bCTEg_9WdwlrcKsgN6WtKPmHEHlgtl52SnQsiF=w2400)  
---|---  
  
“Courfeyrac was being bullied on the playground. A boy just a few years older than we were.”

_[And where were the adults when **that** was going on? Why did no one interfere until it was too late?]_

“It got really bad. The boy pushed Courfeyrac off the jungle gym. And when he fell… he broke his arm.”

_[Courfeyrac didn’t even cry. I did. I cried so hard I threw up. Courfeyrac just stared down at his arm like he couldn’t understand why it was bent that way. And then he looked up, up at the boy who’d pushed him…]_

“The boy came for me next. He was heading right for me… only he never got there.”

_[All hell broke loose before he could.]_

“There was a storm, almost as bad as this one. Thunder, lightning, pouring rain. We’d never seen anything like it. And the boy… He was still on top of the jungle gym. The highest point on the playground.” Combeferre took a deep breath. “He was struck. He fell… and he died.”

…what?

Marius turned to stare fully at Combeferre for one precious second before turning back to see Courfeyrac’s laughter turn into heaving sobs, his hands covering his face as he wept. “But, Combeferre… Courfeyrac didn’t kill that boy. It was an accident! It was just a freak accident. Courfeyrac had nothing to do with it. You were both just in the wrong place at the wrong time!”

Combeferre was shaking his head, now, and clutching so hard at Marius’ shoulder that he was surely going to leave bruises. But he didn’t speak. It was as though he _couldn’t_ speak. Marius could almost feel it—a thick, choking cloud so deeply entrenched in Combeferre’s throat that he couldn’t speak if he tried.

Luckily for them both… he didn’t have to.

_[You don’t understand. No one does. Courfeyrac’s pain… his fear… **He called the storm.** ]_

No.

Oh, no.

A weather-empath.

That… that was a forbidden gift. It was forbidden for _exactly_ this reason. It was a dangerous gift. Wild. Uncontrollable. And if Courfeyrac’s gifts had come on him that strong, that young, it was a miracle that he’d even survived to adulthood. No wonder he walked around in ungifted colors and styles. He probably preferred to think of himself as having no gift at all when the gift he did have was such a curse.

Marius gasped. “Oh. Oh, Combeferre…” That night. One month ago. When Combeferre’s eyes had fixed on Courfeyrac like he was the answer to everything… _because he was_. In Combeferre’s mind, anyway. “…you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

“I didn’t want to. It was the last thing on Earth that I wanted. But Marius, you have to understand... Jehan didn’t tell anyone, but we were weeks away— _days_ away—from total crop failure. People were already dying, and Jehan was getting more desperate by the day. How could I not ask?”

Marius finally found the strength to push Combeferre away. He slipped in the mud, skidded a few feet away before finding his balance again. Marius pointed back up the hill. “Because of _this_. Combeferre, he’s a weather- _empath_. Do you have any idea what kind of anguish he would have had to put himself through to call a storm of this magnitude? No wonder he’s suicidal!”

“Do you think I don’t know that??” Combeferre had found his full voice, finally, and all but screamed that last. “This was the last thing that I wanted, and I told him that!”

Marius could only shake his head in response. Because now that he knew the truth, now that he could feel Courfeyrac’s very heart thrumming in every pounding beat of the storm… he knew something that Combeferre didn’t know. There was no way that Courfeyrac would have said no. There was no way that he would have given any less than his absolute all to calling this storm.

Because he was the one who’d caused the drought, too.

Combeferre wasn’t gifted. He could never have understood. But denying your gift, denying the very essence of who you were… it created an emptiness inside you. A barrenness. Cracked and dry earth where nothing could bloom.

A drought.

Marius understood that all too well. It was how his mother had died. He’d felt it. That internal drought sucked the very life from her, bled her dry until there was nothing left to salvage. Her mind broke. 

And for a weather-empath, it was so much worse. It would only be a matter of time before the drought within was going to reflect in the land and the air around them. Courfeyrac would have known that. He would have felt it. And he never would have sat by and done nothing once he knew. Especially not once Combeferre stepped in and all but begged him to help.

But now… at least now Marius knew what he had to do.

Marius turned away from Combeferre to face Courfeyrac. The laughter had finally dwindled away to nothing, and the look in his eyes… Marius shuddered. Empty. Completely empty. As if he’d already given up the fight.

Marius took a step closer.

No response.

And another.

Still no response.

Courfeyrac watched every step that Marius took, empty eyes fixed on him, but he said nothing. He did nothing. Not until Marius was close enough to reach out and touch him. Only… Courfeyrac reached out for him instead. He held out his hand, braced against Marius’ chest, preventing him from getting any closer. “You see it, don’t you, Marius?” A harsh, bitter laugh. “I don’t deserve to be saved. Forget one little boy. I almost killed the whole world.”

Marius couldn’t help himself. He covered Courfeyrac’s hand with his own, pressing it tightly against his chest. His heart was pounding so hard, it was as though it was beating in their combined grip. Searching deep inside himself, Marius reached out with the part of his gift that had allowed him to reach Courfeyrac before. He could only hope he could do so again.

_[Courfeyrac… don’t you see? That wasn’t your fault, either.]_

A scoff. A weak jerking against Marius’ grip. Marius held on tighter.

_[You were a **child**. No child deserves to be smothered like you were, to be forced to deny the very essence of who they are. No matter what their gifts are. They should have taught you how to control it, not forced you to suppress it. What happened as a natural consequence of their actions… how can you possibly look me in the eye and tell me that it’s your fault?]_

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

_[The world is better off without me in it, anyway.]_

A stifled gasp. Marius grabbed Courfeyrac’s other hand and finally pulled him close, safe into the circle of his arms. Courfeyrac made one brief attempt to break away but collapsed back into him before he’d gotten more than an inch. Marius just held him, frantically thinking, thinking, thinking. What could he possibly say or do that could fix this?

As Courfeyrac’s body started hitching, again, with silent sobs, the wind kicked up. The thunder boomed overhead once more, and it was only then that Marius realized that it had held off for the precious few minutes that he and Courfeyrac had been speaking. And that was when he finally understood.

The storm… The storm was a feedback loop.

Courfeyrac sent his pain into the storm, the storm responded with violence, releasing that pain back into the air, the ground, everything around them… including Courfeyrac. If Marius wanted this to stop, he just had to break the loop. But how on Earth could he distract Courfeyrac from his pain long enough to do that without risking trivializing it and losing his trust?

As Marius wracked his brain for an answer, he started slowly taking advantage of the death grip that Courfeyrac now had on him. Rocking him back and forth, Marius began easing them back from the cliff’s edge, sway by slow, gentle sway. It wasn’t until he’d eased them nearly back within Combeferre’s reach that Courfeyrac noticed. Marius braced himself for a fight, but the fight never came. Courfeyrac’s only move at that point was downward as his knees slowly buckled beneath him, dropping them both into the cold, slick mud. Combeferre prudently kept his distance, but Marius wouldn’t let go. He _couldn’t_ let go.

Head hanging down, bedraggled curls falling limply into his face, Courfeyrac muttered under his breath, “You should both go. Just… just leave me here. I’m not your problem.”

Marius took a deep breath, tightening his grip on Courfeyrac’s hands until Courfeyrac finally gave in and looked up. All or nothing, Marius… all or nothing.

“You’re right. You’re not my problem. Courfeyrac, you’re not a problem at all. But even if you were… Courfeyrac, I’d want you to be my problem. I’d want to be _your_ problem. I—” Marius swallowed hard. Why was it so difficult just to get the words out?

Then again… why did the words matter at all?

Marius nudged that deeper part of his gift once more, prodding it open even further. Only, this time, he wasn’t trying to find underlayers of meaning. This time, he wasn’t even trying to send messages. He only had one thing he needed to share with Courfeyrac. Only one thing… but it was everything. Love. Marius hadn’t even realized it was there, at first. Not like this. It had been small, simple, made up of shared living spaces and kind gestures, freshly baked brownies on hard days and fighting for the remote on the couch. It was the love of friends. Marius hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t even been aware of the change, but over these last few months… it undoubtedly had. There was a new aspect to it, now. All the friend aspects were still there, but now this was there, too. Shared touches and soft smiles, falling asleep curled together on the couch after the fight for the remote, warm, banked heat that could be fanned into a blaze at any moment. Marius had never felt its like, but now… now, he thought he knew what it was, this new aspect to his love for Courfeyrac. He poured all of it--every bit of every kind of love he’d ever felt for Courfeyrac--into his gift and let it form a bridge to the closed-off heart beating so frantically against his own. Courfeyrac jerked against him once, one hand rising to clutch at his own chest, and then he stilled.

Marius could feel it, the edges of Courfeyrac’s formidable gift prodding tentatively at his offering, like a curious child. He could feel it when the warmth of his own love started to eat its way into the icy darkness that Courfeyrac had wrapped around his heart. And, most importantly of all, he could feel it when enough of that ice finally thawed to reveal an answering warmth in Courfeyrac’s own heart. And the minute those two warm fronts collided, Courfeyrac’s head finally came up, his wild-eyed gaze locked onto Marius’ own.

“Marius? You…?”

Marius still couldn’t find the words, could only manage to nod in response. And just as it had done with the storm, Courfeyrac’s gift now set up a feedback loop of a different kind—this time with Marius. As that echo chamber built between them, sharing that love back and forth, Courfeyrac finally began to smile. And with that tremulous smile… came the sun.

For the first time in days, the thunder ceased. For the first time in days, the lightning stopped its frenzied dance across the heavens. And, for the first time in days, the rain slowed from its merciless pounding into the gentlest of sun showers. A soft rain. A nourishing rain. A rain that would refill the reservoirs. A rain that would soak into the ground and revive the failing crops and Jehan’s dying roses. A rain that could sustain life for a long time to come.

And here they were, sitting huddled in the cold mud, Combeferre hovering just out of touching distance until Courfeyrac reached out to him, too. That was all it took. Combeferre all but barreled into them in his haste to embrace Courfeyrac, apologies tumbling from his lips like a fresh torrent. Courfeyrac shushed him, cradling him in arms that still shook with an overabundance of adrenaline. It was minutes, it was hours, it was an eternity, that they sat entwined on the muddy ground, but Marius was content to wait.

When Combeferre finally let go and eased back, Courfeyrac turned all the intensity of that embrace on Marius. In a hoarse whisper, he said, “I know this wasn’t what you signed up for when you accepted my offer of my guest room. It’s not too late to back out if you’ve had enough.”

With that incredulous statement, Marius found his words again. “You… Courfeyrac, no. That’s not—” OK, so maybe they weren’t _great_ words, but it was _something_ , at least.

“Because this isn’t over, Marius. Now that I’ve let this cat out of the bag, it’s not going to go back in so quickly.” Courfeyrac snorted. “And I think we’ve proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that that’s a bad idea, anyway. If this isn’t what you want… I’ll understand.”

Marius sighed. Second time was the charm? “Courfeyrac… I didn’t ‘sign up’ for anything. When you took me in, I had no expectations. I had no _hope_. You’re the one who helped me find it again. You helped me find the will I needed to actually live my own life, instead of a life dictated to me by others. You helped me find pride in myself, in my abilities. But more than that… Courfeyrac, you and I built a home together. We built a _life_ together. And, maybe I didn’t realize what that meant before, but I sure as hell do now, and if you think I’m going to throw that away just because it turns out that you have imperfections, too, then you have another thing coming!”

Marius knew the exact moment that Courfeyrac finally started to believe that Marius meant what he said. The last of the rain cleared and, as the sun broke through the last of the clouds, a brilliant double rainbow arced across the sky. Marius couldn’t help but stare. “Courfeyrac? That… you… did you… was that—?”

Courfeyrac let out a slightly watery laugh. “It was already forming. I’m not _that_ much of a cliché. But…”

Marius raised an eyebrow. “But?”

Courfeyrac shrugged, his smile turning sheepish. It was the most Courfeyrac-like expression Marius had seen on his face in a month. “I might’ve helped it along a little?”

Marius bent his head down to press his forehead to Courfeyrac’s, unable to fight the broad smile that overtook his face, and not really wanting to. “Of course, you did.” He picked his head up, revealing a smile as broad as Courfeyrac’s now was. “You wouldn’t be you, if you hadn’t.”

“You don’t mind the cliché?”

Marius laughed. “I don’t mind the cliché.”

_[I like you just the way you are. I wouldn’t change a thing.]_

And as that underlayer of thought joined the echo chamber between them, Courfeyrac reached his hands up to cup Marius’ face, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones as Courfeyrac slowly pulled him back down. Marius let himself be pulled, tilting his head so that when their lips aligned, the angle was just right. Their lips parted, deepening the kiss exactly the way Courfeyrac liked and, as Courfeyrac let out a low moan at the contact, Marius smiled into it.

Looked like low-level telepathy was good for more than just translation, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the fic! If you'd like to find me outside of AO3, you can find me on tumblr at [eirenical](http://eirenical.tumblr.com/). I promise I don't bite! ^_^
> 
> And if you'd like to find the posts for the fic and art here on tumblr, they can be found at:
> 
> [Tumblr post (fic)](https://eirenical.tumblr.com/post/617322153544761344/cracked-earth-7185-words-by-eirenical-sister).  
> [Tumblr post (art)](https://boom-goes-the-canon.tumblr.com/post/617322810332921856/my-contribution-to-the-les-mis-quarantine-big-bang).


End file.
